


Casualties

by ArgentSleeper



Series: Episode AUs [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Cauterisation, Episode: s02e03 The Nightmare Begins, Gen, Hurt Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 20:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentSleeper/pseuds/ArgentSleeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's knight shot an arrow at a half-seen enemy.  Only as it turned out, it wasn't an enemy...</p><p>What if: Merlin was actually hit by the arrow shot at him in The Nightmare Begins?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Casualties

She wasn’t expecting him to show up, except that, okay, she was.

 

Morgana lay awake on her bed, having sent a frantically relieved Gwen home ages ago.  She was grateful to the girl for her friendship, but for the moment she just wanted to be left alone.  It had taken no work at all to get Uther and Arthur to stop hovering, simply claiming to be tired after her “ordeal” and practically being ordered to bed on the spot.  Gwen had needed much more reassuring that no, she didn’t need her to stay to keep her company or to calm her nightmares or to make her feel safer (especially that last one, since she was sure the guard had been doubled in the corridors leading to her rooms).

 

Normally she would be grateful for Gwen’s, and even Arthur’s, caring, but not tonight.  Not when there was so much they wouldn’t understand.  So much _she_ didn’t understand.

 

Morgana had thought her questions would be answered if she went to the druids, and on the one hand, they were, really.  She’d wondered if these terrifying things that were happening to her were evidence she had magic, and now she knew it was so.  But Morgana had no idea what that meant for her now.  She’d intended to stay with the druids, but Arthur had come gallivanting in with the notion that they had kidnapped her and dragged her half-unconscious back to the castle.  In her absence innocent people had been rounded up and killed for suspicion of having harmed her.  Attempting to go back was out of the question.  Morgana wouldn’t risk that happening again.

 

She still had no idea what had become of Mordred.

 

But that left her alone and untrained in a kingdom that would as soon kill her as look at her if they ever found out who she was.  Simply _not_ doing magic was out of the question, clearly.  Her half-formed thoughts about magic being something that chose you were certainly ringing clear.  Being plagued by nightmares each night, setting her room alight, exploding objects, all without a conscious thought?  Morgana would never have chosen this.

 

She hadn’t chosen this.

 

And to think she would have spent the rest of her life –or at least hopefully many more years of it –in even greater fear and panic.  To be a dreaded sorceress, that was terrifying enough, but at least now she _knew_.  Before… Before Morgana had had nothing but her wildest imaginations to haunt her, tormenting her with ideas of wicked enchantments and inescapable madness.

 

Morgana had begged for alternate answers.  Everyone –Uther, Arthur, Gaius, even Gwen–had told her it was nothing but a bad dream and to simply take this draught and go back to sleep, there’s a good girl.

 

Only one person had been willing to help her find the truth.

 

And so, yes, she had expected him to come.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Morgana didn’t even realize she’d fallen asleep until she was being jolted awake again, Gwen bending worriedly over her, a cautious hand on her shoulder.

 

“My lady, are you alright?  Was it another nightmare?  I’m so sorry; I should have stayed last night.  Of course you would have nightmares after all that…”

 

Morgana let her ramble on, drinking the water that was forced into her hand, taking the chiding for falling asleep in her gown after she’d sworn she could change into her nightclothes herself.  She let Gwen help her swap into less wrinkled attire, trying to smooth her features to something resembling calm and still her shaking hands to avoid any further questions about her dream.

 

It had been about Arthur.  They were always about Arthur.  But for once it wasn’t worry for the prince that the night terror had inspired.

 

The moment Gwen left to go fetch her her breakfast, Morgana took off through the corridors, ignoring the stares from the guards as she passed.  She knew Merlin likely wouldn’t have arrived back in Camelot until long after them.  He couldn’t let Arthur know he’d been there, after all, and he didn’t have a horse to travel by.

 

Although the smarter method probably would have been to get back sooner.  Already, moments after Morgana had been handed off to be coddled by Uther, Arthur had been yelling for his servant.  The way he snapped angrily when Gwen told him she didn’t know where he was promised no end of trouble for him once he was found.  His absence from the search party for her was sure to be harshly reprimanded.  Morgana would do what she could to soothe things between them, but she knew even Arthur’s current sympathy for her had its limits when it came to Merlin’s incompetence.

 

Particularly when his supposed incompetence chose to prove itself at a moment when Arthur was most vulnerable –when the people he loved were in danger.

 

Maybe Merlin was traveling behind them, but they had been back in the citadel for half a day and an entire night.  Plenty of time for him to have returned.  And he had returned.  He had.  It was just a dream.  She was going to prove it.

 

Morgana heard the voices before she even made it to her destination, and they brought a smug smile to her face.  But just before she could turn back –there was no need to make her presence known if she didn’t have to; then she’d just make awkward excuses– the words became clearer.

 

“ –find out that he’s spending yet _another_ day in the tavern drowning his sorrows, I don’t care anymore: I _will_ sack him, and this time he won’t have a prayer of being hired by anyone in the kingdom, let alone rehired by me!”

 

“Sire, please, I’m sure Merlin will be back soon.  And I can assure you, he’s not at the tavern.”  Gaius’s tone was strained.  Morgana couldn’t help herself, leaning forward to catch a glimpse into the room.  The old man caught the movement by the doorway, however, seizing sight of her gratefully, though she noted the deep hint of worry in eye.  “Ah, Lady Morgana, can I help you?  Did you sleep well?”

 

Arthur spun around at the mention of her name, his face morphing instantly from livid to sheepish and at the same time disapproving, in the way only Arthur could pull off.  “Morgana!  You shouldn’t wandering about, not after the last few days you’ve had.  You should have sent Guinevere.  Go back to bed; I’ll bring you whatever it is you need.”

 

Morgana ignored him, crossing her arms stubbornly.  “I was actually looking for Merlin myself.”

 

Arthur scoffed.  “ _Merlin_?  Why on earth would you be looking for _Merlin_?  _I_ wouldn’t even be looking for that idiot if he hadn’t up and vanished.”

 

“I just wondered if he was… here.”  Morgana looked past Arthur and made eye contact with Gaius, hoping her silent question was coming through.  She didn’t know how much Gaius knew of what Merlin had done for her, but he was her best bet.

 

“No, he’s not,” Arthur snapped back, all traces of former caring vanished.  “And you’ll have to wait for whatever it is you needed him for, because after I’ve dragged him out his cups, he’ll be spending the rest of the month in the stocks.”

 

“Sire, I’ve already told you, he’s not–”

 

“I ran away.”

 

Both men turned on her in shock, though from the warning look on Gaius’s face she had a feeling her assumption was correct that he had at least guessed what had gone on between her and Merlin, if he didn’t actually know.  She ignored it.

 

“Ran away from where?  From your kidnappers?  Morgana, what does this have to do with anything?  I really don’t have time for this, you know.  I’m late for a meeting with Father thanks to that incompetent imbecile.”

 

“Uther will just have to wait.  We’re going for a ride.  No, I didn’t run away from my kidnappers, because I wasn’t kidnapped.  I ran away from _here_.”

 

Stunned silence.  _Good.  Easier to work with._

 

“And Merlin wasn’t here to go with you yesterday because he had already set off to come after me and bring me back.  But then you and the soldiers turned up so he left so you wouldn’t know he’d been there.”  Morgana left out the part where he first tried to help her escape with Aglain and Mordred.  Arthur probably didn’t want to hear that.  “But he should have been back by now.  Something’s happened.  I know it has.”

 

With this last declaration she threw another look at Gaius, once again hoping he caught her meaning.  And hoping that this time he believed her.  Gaius was the only other person besides Merlin Morgana had ever confided in that her dreams might be the work of magic.  The physician had always denied it, but now the druids had affirmed her suspicions, and she had a feeling Gaius had always known as well.  The flash of even deeper worry across his face confirmed it.

 

Arthur, for his part, seemed to be struggling with this wealth of information that ran contrary to everything he’d thought he’d known about the past few days.  He seemed to decide to go with the part he could most easily confirm for the moment.  “So, wait… not kidnapped?”

 

Morgana rolled her eyes.  “No, Arthur.  I chose to leave.  Of my own volition.  I know you can’t even dress yourself in the morning, but some of us do have the capacity to make our own decisions and act on them.”

 

“I’ll have you know I _did_ dress myself this morning!  Especially since that bumbling servant of mine is… he probably just tripped over a branch and knocked himself out!”

 

“And then never got back up?”

 

More silence.  Doubt was beginning to creep into Arthur’s eyes, and Morgana thought she saw a hint of concern there as well, though she knew he would never admit it.  She would just have to make this easier on him then.

 

“Do it for me, Arthur.  Just please go check.  For me.”

 

That would do it.  Right now, even though Arthur was struggling with the new knowledge that she had left of her own free will he pitied her.  And she planned to take full advantage.

 

“If I go look, will you go rest?”  She had him.  “I don’t care what you say; you were _unconscious_ when we finally caught up to you, and you can’t tell me that cut on your leg isn’t real.”

 

Morgana smiled and kissed Arthur on the cheek.  “I’ll do one better and rest right here where Gaius can see me.”   _And where I can see Merlin when you bring him back._   “Thank you, Arthur.”

 

“I deserve more than a thanks for this.  Probably just got himself lost.  Idiot…” he continued grumbling under his breath as he left.

 

The smile slipped off Morgana’s face as Arthur slammed the door behind him.  Gaius put a hand on her shoulder.  “Morgana… what did you see?”

 

“Nothing good.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Arthur didn’t bother to take anyone with him.  Not that he would have gotten anyone to agree to go, nor his father to let them.  Uther personally didn’t like Merlin in the first place, and to him and anyone else he was just a servant, after all.

 

To Arthur too.  He was only taking this ridiculous trip for Morgana’s sake.

 

He was sure he’d find Merlin nearby, taking a nap against a tree, putting off the time when he’d be punished for his disappearing act.  And punish him, Arthur would.  Perhaps the stocks weren’t enough for this time.  Maybe he’d stick the boy in a cell overnight and see how he liked _that_.

 

What he didn’t expect was to make it all the way back to where they found Morgana without even a trace of him.  The farther he went into the woods, the more worried he became.  _He took a different route.  We probably passed each other, and he’s already back at the castle.  No, he probably never left, and he’s there laughing with Morgana over tricking me to come out here._

 

For some reason he couldn’t quite convince himself that was the case.

 

Arthur would have called out for him, but fear of being outnumbered and surrounded by bandits who would take full advantage of his solitary state stopped him.  Instead he took a cursory look around the camp and its boundaries.  If Merlin had been hurt –Arthur had no trouble believing the stick-tripping situation he’d told to Morgana– and unable to make it back to Camelot, he would probably do as any child was told when they were lost: stay put, don’t wander off or we’ll never find you.  The camp was somewhere Arthur had been.  Therefore it was the best bet for Merlin to hope to be found.

 

And if he was able to make it back here, the injury couldn’t be _that_ severe.

 

Arthur tried not to think about what it meant if there was no injury.

 

He spread out his perimeter.  There were tracks everywhere, but then, there had been druids everywhere.  The tents and most of their belongings were still there.  They were probably going to come back for everything after a few days, once they were sure Camelot had forgotten about them again.

 

For a fleeting moment Arthur wondered if the druids had possibly kidnapped Merlin.  But that made no sense.  Even less than the idea that the pacifist group had taken Morgana.  At least Morgana was worth something.

 

Just as he was about to give up, Arthur spotted it.  Blood, there on a branch.  His heart began beating faster as he swung off his horse.  No one had been unfortunate enough to be injured by a soldier or one of the dogs –something he was rather grateful for if Morgana’s tale was true.  The only one who had died was the man who was trying to escape with Morgana.  But they hadn’t shot him here; he’d been farther along the ridge by the time they caught him up.

 

The amount of blood was minimal as he followed the trail.  Barely a few specks.  A few specks was nothing.  A scratch from a branch, nothing more.

 

There was the little ledge they’d had to jump.  Arthur led his mount around it.  It wouldn’t do for either of them to sprain something.  The blood trail stopped.  That could mean anything.  The scratch stopped bleeding.  The wound had been bound.  The person had been picked up and carried, and the carrier soaked up the blood.  But there weren’t any more tracks other than his and his men’s.

 

Arthur sighed heavily and ran his fingers roughly through his hair.  “Where are you, Merlin?” he muttered to himself.

 

Turning with his horse, the prince decided to double back on his path in case there was something he missed.  He came face to face with his nightmare.

 

There, under the ledge in a little nature-made cave, lay Merlin.  His body was snow-white and unmoving.  If it weren’t for his complexion, Arthur might have thought he was sleeping.

 

Well, if not for that and the large blotch of dried blood peeking out around his torso.

 

Arthur dropped to the ground beside him, grabbing him by the shoulder and shaking.  He was cold, so cold, despite the heat of the summer day.  “Merlin?  Merlin, wake up, idiot.   Come on, don’t do this to me, Merlin, you know I can’t stand it when Morgana’s right.”  He was growing more desperate with each plea.  Part of Arthur was glad the boy was unable to hear his frantic tone.  A very, _very_ small part.  “Merlin, I am your prince, and I am _ordering_ you to _open your eyes this instant._ ”

 

He was rewarded with a tiny moan, but nothing else.  That was good enough for Arthur.  “Okay, Merlin.  We need to get you back to Gaius.  It’s going to be fine.  You’ll be fine.  My knights and I have survived far worse.”

 

Carefully Arthur gripped Merlin under the armpits (it seemed the safest, not that he knew enough about anatomy to know what was safe) and slowly pulled him out of the cave.  In the now empty space was a discovery that sent Arthur’s stomach plummeting to his feet: a bloody arrow, starkly identifiable as one of Camelot’s.

 

_No…_

 

Arthur didn’t want to, but he forced himself to look for the source of Merlin’s wound.  A small hole in his jacket showed him exactly where the arrow had torn into his lower back.  The blood stain was even worse here, where gravity had let it pool and spread, soaking the garment.  There was so much; Arthur didn’t know how Merlin was even still alive.

 

_The point is that he is!  Don’t question it, you dollophead!_

“See, it’s barely a scratch.  Honestly, I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss about it.  You really are a girl, aren’t you, Merlin?  Fainting at the sight of a teensy bit of a blood.  You’ll be back to mucking out my stables by morning.”

 

Quickly Arthur tore off a length of Merlin’s bloodied shirt –his own was covered in mail and unreachable– and bound it tightly around his waist to stem the sluggish flow.  Then as gently as he could he lifted the boy onto his horse, laying him across the front of the saddle.  He did his best to ignore the pangs that ripped through him as the movement elicited tortured groans.  He just had to remind himself it as a sign Merlin was still breathing.

 

Climbing up behind him, Arthur promised, “I’m going to get you home, Merlin.  Just stay with me, alright?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Merlin didn’t stay with him.  By the time Arthur was galloping into the courtyard, the boy had stopped responding no matter what the provocation.  A pair of servants alerted to his arrival scampered out with a litter.  Arthur carefully handed Merlin down to be laid upon it.  Leaping off his horse and tossing his reins to the closest person, not bothering to see if they were caught, he ran after them.

 

Gaius was already bent over his ward, gently peeling away the saturated clothing, tearing the fabric apart to reach the wound.  Morgana, having true to her word stayed in the physician’s chambers the entire time–  hurried forward with soaked rags to dab away the blood then once those were all soaked through, rushing away to get more cloths.  Arthur was in too much of a daze to do much of anything.  Cleaned up, the wound looked so small, so innocent.  How could a hole, hardly the width of his finger, have caused so much trauma?  It didn’t seem possible.

 

“Arthur!”  He startled.  They’d been asking him for details.  He hadn’t heard a word.

 

“I… I found him by the camp.  He was… he was already like this.  It must have happened yesterday afternoon.  And he’s just been lying out there alone ever since.”

 

“At this rate of blood loss he would have slipped unconscious quickly,” Gaius confirmed.  “We’re lucky you found him when you did.  He wouldn’t have lasted out there much longer.  How exactly was he positioned?  Was the arrow still in him when you found him?”

 

“No… He- he was on his back.  The arrow was lying under him.”

 

“He pulled it out.  He must have been thinking to treat it himself…  But I’m afraid this is far beyond you, my boy.”  Gaius seemed to be almost talking to himself as much as Merlin as he snatched up a metal bar with a small flat end.  “Gwen,” Arthur hadn’t even noticed the other girl in the room, “heat this over the fire, please, just as you would in the smithy.  It should be hot, but not red.  Sire, I need you to hold pressure on the wound until Gwen’s ready.”

 

Arthur didn’t move.  He couldn’t.  He had performed medical aid on his comrades out in the field dozens of times, but while they were his brothers in arms, this was _Merlin_.  Merlin who was just a servant, not a trained fighter.  Who couldn’t bear to hunt for deer despite knowing they had to be killed to make his supper.  Who never would have been in this mess if Arthur had paid just a bit more attention.  Even the idea of something like this being a possibility… it didn’t merit thinking.

 

“ _Arthur_.  I need you to apply pressure.  He can’t afford to lose any more blood.  I need to gather supplies for the procedure.  You _have_ to do this.”

 

“Right.”  Right.  He could do this.  He just had to pretend it wasn’t Merlin.  It was just another knight.  A random servant.  Merlin was fine and off cleaning his rooms.  He pressed down hard on the injury.  It didn’t even elicit a groan.  Arthur forced himself to look anywhere but where his hands were placed.  _Pressure.  Apply pressure._

 

Gaius ambled back over with several jars, a poultice, a few strips of fabric, and a strip of leather.  He tipped Mer –the servant’s head back at an awkward angle and tipped one of the bottles into his mouth, gently easing the liquid down his throat.  He only managed about a quarter of the contents.  “That will have to do.  I can’t risk choking him.”  He laid the boy’s head back down and placed the strip of leather between his teeth.  “Are you ready, Gwen?”

 

“Yes, it’s hot.”

 

“Good.  Maintain the temperature for just another minute.  Arthur, keep holding down.”  Gaius grabbed the boy’s hand and brought it down over the side of the cot.  Arthur gasped as he took one of the fabric scraps and tied the wrist to the leg of the bed.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he exclaimed.

 

“His natural reaction during this procedure will be to thrash.  I’ll have you hold down his legs, but we’d need several more people in here to hold him down completely, and we haven’t time for that.”  He tied up the other wrist.  “Alright, Gwen, bring it here.  Arthur, grab his legs.  Gwen, you hold his head steady.  Don’t either of you let go for anything.”

 

Arthur did as he was told, though his fogged brain couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening.  What did Gaius need a heated rod for?  And why did the boy need to be held down?  He was still.  Too still.

 

Gaius held the rod over the wound, and it was only when he was lowering it down to press into the flesh that it clicked.  Limbs began to buck in Arthur’s grip, and he came back to his senses just in time to tighten his hold.  The whole process lasted barely a heartbeat, but Arthur’s own heart was beating so fast he wasn’t sure just how long that was anymore.

 

“Keep him steady now,” Gaius warned, and pressed down again.

 

This time Merlin started to scream.  Once the agonized sound escape his throat, Arthur could no longer pretend it was someone else on the table.  The taste of salt clued him into the tears falling down his cheeks.  “Gaius…”

 

“Just once more.”  How the old man didn’t shake in hand nor voice was a mystery.

 

Merlin shrieked once more, arms and legs thrashing at their bonds.  Gwen cooed to him frantically, doing everything she could to calm him, threading her fingers through his hair and she kept him from banging his head.  Morgana came bursting through the door, arms filled with bandages.  She nearly dropped them in shock at the scene before her.

 

Gaius lowered the rod to a bench and liberated her of her load.  “I’ll wrap it with honey now.  We’ve stopped the blood flow, now it’s up to him.”

 

Arthur prised frozen fingers open.  Merlin was sobbing now, though he still didn’t even seem to be conscious, body unmoving now that that involuntary spasms had stopped.  The prince backed away from him, unable to handle the intense show of pain.  “What…” he tried to steady his cracking voice.  “What are his chances?”

 

“Better than they were.  He’s lost a lot of blood, and he’s at a grave risk of infection both from lying out in the woods so long and from the cauterizing process.  But he has _a_ chance now.  We must hold on to that.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Merlin did not wake the rest of that day or the next.  Gaius explained that his body was recovering from the loss of blood.  Arthur thought it might have more to do with the potions and draughts shoved down his throat every few hours.

 

Not that he got to see that happening.  He had been put back to work, organizing patrols to hunt down the druids who had “taken Morgana.”  Morgana had wanted to come clean about that when she heard what Arthur was to do, but he had refused to let her.  Uther wouldn’t listen, thinking her tender heart simply wanted to spare her aggressors.  So instead she claimed a need to stay with Gaius due to her leg and tended to Merlin as penance.  Arthur doled out the patrols to his knights and let them do the legwork.  He wanted to be close by in case something happened.

 

Uther had heard about Merlin’s injury of course.  However, he didn’t know that it had been his own men that had caused it.  Arthur had come up with a story about bandits attacking during a simple ride to exercise the horses.  It was a ridiculous notion, but Uther bought it, and that was all he needed.  It would do no one any good for the knight who had fired the crossbow to be punished.  He’d thought he was shooting at the enemy.

 

Then there was the possibility that he wouldn’t be punished at all, and that it would then be a conscious choice to put him above Merlin was more than Arthur could take.

 

Arthur dropped by the physician’s quarters whenever he could, but soon he grew tired of hearing the words “no change.”  But then, they were better than “I’m afraid a bit of an infection has set in.”  He tried not to worry.  Gaius said not to worry.  That Merlin was strong, he would get through this.  But Merlin wasn’t strong right now.  If he was, he would be talking, walking, _blinking_.  But no, he was just motionless, the only sign that he was still alive the staggered rise and fall of his back.

 

Dawn hadn’t yet cracked when there was a frantic pounding on his door.  Arthur shot upright.  “Enter!”

 

Guinevere popped her head in.  “He’s…” she cut off with a yawn.  “He’s awake.  I’m sorry to wake you, but Gaius said you’d want to know as so–” She didn’t get a chance to finish as Arthur was already out the door.

 

He burst in to the physician’s chambers and ran up the steps to Merlin’s room.  Inside, Gaius leaned over the boy who shifted restlessly on the bed.  “There you go, just relax.  Ah, there you are, sire.  He just woke up a little while ago.  I’ve given him something to help with the pain that should put him out again soon, but I thought you’d like to know.”

 

Merlin had stilled at the word “sire.”  He tried to flip himself over and sit up, but he was still too weak, and Gaius had a hand firmly on his shoulder stopping him.  He mumbled something Arthur couldn’t hear.  Gaius smiled and pet his head.  “No, my boy, you aren’t in trouble.  In fact, you need to thank his highness.  He was the one who found you.  If not for him, you likely wouldn’t be with us.”

 

Merlin muttered something else, but apparently even Gaius couldn’t make it out this time.  “The fever is muddling his awareness, but you may stay until he falls back asleep if you wish.”  He gave Merlin once last pat and left them.

 

Arthur pulled up a chair that Guinevere or Morgana had left in the room.  Merlin blinked dozily at him.  “Well then… how are you feeling?”

 

Merlin’s response was gibberish, but the tiny smile he managed told Arthur it had been positive, or at least joking.

 

“We’ll talk later about your blatant disregard for orders, but for now Gaius tells me I can’t punish you.”

 

The smile vanished, and his garbled a panicked plea.

 

“Relax.  I’m only teasing.  Morgana already told me why you were there.  Really, if you’re going thank anyone, it’s her.  If she hadn’t insisted I go look for you, we never would have known you were missing.  Well, I knew you weren’t here, obviously, because you hadn’t shown up for work and even you aren’t that lazy, but I never would have guessed you were out there.”

 

More gibberish, then "...gana..."

  
  
"Yes, I know, who would have thought I'd ever thank her for anything?"  He rolled his eyes.  "And if you tell her I did, I'll have you in the stocks by breakfast."

  
  
Merlin shook his head, frowning.  "Gana!" He insisted more forcefully.  He gave a little jerk, like he wanted to get up.

  
  
Arthur laid a hand on his shoulder.  Merlin shouldn't be moving.  "Morgana's fine.  She'll probably be by to see you soon.  Thank you for trying to get her to come home."

  
  
Merlin gave a little huff.  "Magic..."

  
  
The boy was slipping further away.  "Sleep, Merlin.  I'll be by too, okay?  I'm probably going to have some things to take care of, but I'll be back."

  
  
'Ar... ur..." he mumbled something else before his eyes slid closed and his breathing steadied.

  
  
"You're welcome, Merlin."  
  
  


* * *

 

 

He wasn't able to return until later that night.  Arthur had run into Guinevere around midday, and she'd informed him the fever had broken at least, though the servant was still out of it from the draughts controlling his pain.

  
  
Morgana was with him when Arthur arrived.  Through the half closed door he heard, "-sorry, Merlin.  If I hadn't gone... you never would have gotten hurt.  This is all my fault."

  
  
"S' fine,” Merlin drawled, voice numbed with sleep and medicine.  “Needed t' know."

  
  
Arthur peeked around the door.  Merlin was sat up against a mound of pillows, the tops of bandages wrapped around his waist peeking out from the edge of the cover.  Morgana was next to him on the chair, leaning over and holding his hand, her face distraught.

  
  
"But what will I do with that knowledge? I can't leave again.  I can't let more innocent people suffer for me."

  
  
"That's up t' you. Your choice now."

  
  
"What I said in the woods..."

  
  
"Can trus' me, 'Gana. Won' tell."

  
  
"Thank you, Merlin."  Her voice dropped to barely a whisper, and she leaned closer to him.  Whatever she said made Merlin grin wistfully.

  
  
"Yeah..."

  
  
Arthur had to step in.  "Awake there, Merlin?  See, told you I'd be back."

  
  
Merlin smile dopily.  "Ne’er doubt’d you."

  
  
Morgana kissed him on the cheek and stood.  "I'll let you boys visit in peace.  I'm so glad you're okay, Merlin."

  
  
"’m glad you're back."

  
  
Morgana glanced at Arthur and gave Merlin a sad smile.  "Me too."

  
  
Somehow Arthur didn't believe her.

  
  
He took the vacated seat.  "You look much better than this morning."

  
  
"Wha’ happened th’ morning?" He crinkled his brow.

  
  
"You don't remember?   Well, I suppose you were slightly out of it.  Not saying you weren't yourself, but..."

  
  
Merlin laughed and swatted at him weakly, wincing at the movement.  Arthur frowned in concern.  "Do you need Gaius?"

  
  
"No!" He answered quickly.  "I mean... jus' bit longer?  S' jus'... potions make m' tired.  Don' wan' t' sleep yet."

  
  
He certainly sounded like he needed to, but Arthur didn't want to fight him right now.  "That's fine; you don't have to have to.  In fact... I wanted to talk to you about something..."  Merlin raised his eyebrows expectantly.

  
  
"This has to stop."  Merlin just stared in confusion.  Fine, maybe he should be a bit more specific.  "The King would have your head if he found out, and there's no point denying it."

  
  
"'nying what?" There was a quaver to his voice.  Arthur felt bad.  Merlin still wasn't in a shape he should be stressing him like this.

  
  
“Your affections for the Lady Morgana.”

  
  
He relaxed.  "Righ'..."

  
  
"Take a bit of advice from someone who knows about women-"

  
  
"-If such a person e'isted, I would-"

  
  
"-stick to girls who are more...how can I put it? On your level.”

  
  
"Thanks?"

  
  
Arthur sighed.  "She can't be your friend, let alone anything else."  And neither could Guinevere for him.  Sometimes the truth hurt.

  
  
"Yeah, I know."  He looked at him like Arthur was telling him the grass was green.  Well, that had been easier than he could have hoped.

  
  
"You can't hide anything from me, Merlin."  He clapped the servant on the shoulder.

  
  
Merlin gave him the same sad smile Morgana had. "Wouldn' dream of it."

  
  
Somehow Arthur didn't believe him either.


End file.
